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History of Ogleman's Pixies
See also: Ogleman's Pixies Turn 0 }|turn00| WANTED: APPROX 500 PIXIES; IN POSSESSION OF MULTIPLE MAGICAL ARTIFACTS 1$ / DEAD each; 3$ / LIVE each; 10,000$ / ARTIFACT dependent on condition and timeliness. Return to Ogleman Laboratory North-West of MAURADUS for payment and antivenom. }} Turn 1 }|turn01| Three run-down wooden ships drift over the Maruadus Pass. The ships are being pulled on ropes by several hundred pixies while a drum steadily beats. In the main dining room of the first ship sit the six planners and executors of the pixie's escape, discussing their plans for statehood. "And of course, we'll have to confiscate high-power artifacts to prevent vandalism to the mines and ships." Admiral Deiss scoffs. "Who would vandalize a mine? Peasants depend on mines just as much as we do (1), they're not going to miss meals for a little bit of mischief." Admiral Roma inspects her finger nails as though bored. "No, but they'll put a firebomb in one of the tunnels and ransom our mine back to us in exchange for seats on our council. Maybe yours." Deiss starts to respond, but is interrupted by an incoming messenger pixie. "Admirals sirs, we've reached land but have been stopped by a gang of rival pixies, and they're demanding tribute." Admiral Ludd wrinkles his brow. "Rival pixies?" The six of them rush to the deck, where they see the lead scouting team standing on the beach of the new continent with torches in their hands and stupid grins on their faces. Their leader, Big Ugly, speaks. "Greetings! This land is the sovereign territory of New Ogleton. You are in violation of our maritime borders, which we consider to be an act of war. However, you may be pardoned if you cede your military craft (2) and magical artifacts (3-4) to the militia and swear fealty to the government of New Ogleton. If you do not agree we will be forced defend our territory with force." The leftmost scout gestures with his torch and grins at the shipbound pixies. There is a pause, and Admiral Deiss curses in disbelief. "You can't DO that! You just got here two minutes ahead of us, riding on OUR boats! You're the scouts, you can't form a government!" Big Ugly grins. "Okay, then it's a stickup. Get off MY boat." The pixies collectively grumble and exit the craft. As they fly away towards New Ogleton, the second-in-command scout looks blankly at the abandoned ships. "I suppose we'll need a way to move these things, seeing as all our rope-pullers just left." Big Ugly turns his gaze towards the ropes hanging off the sides of the ships and ponders the matter. "Fuck." Results -54 (6-60) +34 (94-60) -16 (44-60), -30 (30-60) Have e’er you seen the Pixies, the fold not blest or banned? They walk upon the waters; they sail upon the land. Big Ugly ran a tight ship. Very tight. They took two shifts a day, everypixie taking their share of time on the ropes. When they couldn’t pull their vessels through the sky, they skipped it over the treetops. When they couldn’t do that, they dragged it along the ground. The front ship had dug itself directly into a boulder. The pixies tied onto the ships behind it yelled and groaned, each of their ships stuck in the trench cut by the lead ship’s prow. The lead ship was light as could be. They’d already discarded all the useless trinkets, dumping them over the sides of the ships as they went, but despite reclaiming all that weight, the pixies strained at their ropes and the lead ship moved not at all. “Get yer wings into it, you sea dogs!” Big Ugly shouted. “It’s still another day and night to New Ogleton! You think those ink-fingered itch-scratchers aren’t preparing for our offensive? How am I supposed to get my rightful share o’ the proceedings if you idiots are stuck in the mud? Won’t be any, that’s how! And none for you lot, that’s for certain!” “Captain! There’s a boulder in the way!” “Well make it not in the way!” Out of the forest around them, a rustling descended. Before the pullers could gather themselves or Big Ugly could shout, they were surrounded by a solid wall of flying spear-tips. They closed in, penning them in. “This is it lads!” Big Ugly yelled. “Scream hell!” “Whosoever throws down their ropes and joins us peacefully,” an proper voice yelled from the trees, “will be pardoned from working in the mines for a month.” All at once, the ropes went slack. Big Ugly staggered at the helm, careening into the air. “You sods!” he yelled. “Disloyal-” A spear at his throat quieted him. “Thank you, Captain,” Admiral Deiss said, “for delivering me my ships.” (Navy Raised! Starting bonus: +15) (-40 Wealth taken, 15 Energy upkeep) }} Turn 2 }|turn02| Big Ugly is standing in a shallow rocky pit, chained to a ship's anchor twice his size. Surrounding him is a large crowd of laborers and spectators. Admiral Tay is hovering over a small podium in front of Big Ugly listing off synonyms for treason. Once the charges have been read, the court moves on to trial. Big Ugly immediately pleads guilty on all charges and Admiral Tay finds him double guilty out of spite. Now the court moves on to sentencing. "Lead Scout A, aka Big Ugly, aka Captain Ugly. You have been found guilty of treason which is punishable by death. However, your commanding officers value your ambition and hope that you will show similiar determination and drive in the pursuit of natural resources. You are hereby promoted to Mine Administrator and you may begin assembling a team and establishing operations immediately." Big Ugly looks relieved. "I accept. I would like to offer management positions to my former scouting team and mining jobs to my crew." Admiral Tay rolls his eyes. "They're on leave. We've already chosen a crew for you. Also, the guards at the mine entrance have orders to shoot you on sight." Admiral Tay sounds a steam whistle and the new miners fly into the pit and line up to begin work. Tay leans over the now bustling pit and addresses Mine Administrator Ugly. "Best of luck to you, Administrator. If you meet quota this week we'll throw down the key for that anchor." (1-4) Results -42, -47, +5, -45 Ugly didn’t meet the quota the first week. He didn’t meet it the second week, either. A month passed, and then another, and Ugly couldn’t seem to get his men to mine any more than a lousy trickle of coal. (+3 Power) He slept on the anchor, his arms wrapped around it. Compared to the rocky, coal-speckled ground, the smooth metal felt surprisingly soft. Almost comfortable. “Captain.” Someone whispered in the darkness. They poked and prodded at him, first one set of hands, and then another. It was one of those dreams again. “Begone, foul beasts,” he mumbled. But as he roused, he looked around at the faces of his men. “Captain.” “Captain Ugly.” “We’re here, Captain. We’re busting you out.” One of the pixies produced a long key, and he fiddle with Big Ugly’s manacles. “Oh, it’s you lot,” he said. “Captain?” He shrugged. By dawn, the entire navy had disappeared and much of the workforce. The Admirals called an emergency meeting. It consisted of shouting and assigning blame. (The New Ogleton Navy Mutinies! +15 Power regained.) }} Turn 3 }|turn03| The Admirals’ emergency rebellion meeting goes poorly. Deiss quietly leaves, Tay has to be physically restrained, and Roma keeps suggesting that someone be demoted. Eventually, Ludd’s voice of calm wins out and he reassures the council that nothing needs to be done at all. There are other mining sites and other tasks to handle. Worst case scenario, we offer Big Ugly a seat on the council and deal with the fallout. The pixies rope off the offending mine and start a new one a few miles away. (x4) Results +8, -9, -37, -54 “Alright, let’s see it,” Admiral Deiss said. The admirals held a quorum around their round table, looking with expectation to a leathered pixie, his wings and eyebrows layered with rock-dust. He shifted a sack off of his foot, shrugging and grunting. “Not sure if this shews a good turn or not,” the foreman said. He hefted the sack up, setting it on the table with sudden care. Admiral Roma eyed him, giving her fingernails a cursory glance before reaching into the sack. She withdrew a strange rock. It cleft in long, narrow shears, revealing hundreds of faces in white and pallid yellow, attached to a lump of saltquartz. “What sort of rock-” “Mineral,” the foreman said. “Men callin’ it crombligold.” “Gold?” Admiral Roma said. “Crumbly?” Admiral Ludd said. “Why?” He reached over, picking the rock from Roma’s hand. As he did, his grip cleft the rock, and it fell to pieces back in her hand. She winced as gold sheafs sprinkled down, horrified as a dust of yellow followed it. Ludd regarded his hand dumbly, rubbing some of the stuff between his fingers. “Well, it’s crombli gold,” the foreman said. “Men sayin’ it tastes drastic.” Deiss nodded. “Well, I’m sure we’ll find a use for it,” he said. “Thank you, foreman.” Power Military? Big Ugly eyed the crumbled rock with mounting dread as his men spat yellow loogies onto the mess table around it. He would have preferred for his dread to dismount immediately and to hand him back the reins, but such things as leadership and control seemed to be permanently out of his reach. His men had regarded him with such reverence when he’d lead them and when they’d rescued him from being strapped to an anchor in a mine, but they seemed to regard him not so much recently. They were picking up their grog and quaffing it down with the kind of gusto pixies reserved for things that weren’t almost gone, washing their mouths of the crumbly thing’s horrid taste. Big Ugly eyed them warily. He wanted to say something about rations but realized that he wasn’t quite sure how much grog they had left or indeed how much they’d drunk. He’d been out of the loop, lately. “You said this were salt!” Plumm spat. “What about salt?” Dessa said. “I said our man found it with the saltquartz.” Big Ugly blinked, straightening up a little, putting on a little of the old sneer. “But what in the blazes is it?” he said. Nobody heard him, or nobody answered. It was getting harder to assert his position as the Captain. That made some sense, considering there’d been three or four of them in the intervening time since his incarceration, and the last one, Gary Blue, was much better spoken. Much better looking. Better head on his shoulders. A better captain in general, really. While the men wiped the taste from their mouths, growing rowdier by each spit, Gary Blue stood at the other end of the table, his blue wings framing his sober face. “I think,” said Gary Blue. “I think I know I what’s on everyone’s minds.” Everyone stopped. The ones holding anothers’ lapels kept them held, their fists half-cocked. What everyone was thinking? What was that, exactly? The idea that they were all of one sound, unified, really-together mind was a bit ridiculous. Big Ugly knew exactly what *he* was thinking as he swigged from his cup. He was thinking he rather liked the ground, these days — more than the inside of a ship, anyways. There was an order to mining life. A certain regularity of work. And meals. And leisure. And nobody shouted over you or questioned your authority. Gary Blue gave him a wary, expectant, pitying glance before continuing. “You’re all pirates.” Big Ugly blinked. That didn’t seem right. “Are we?” one of the men said. “Exactly,” said Gary Blue. “You’re pirates, but not all the way.” He let this set in. He let it set in some more. The men mulled this over, uncocking their fists and unholding eachother’s lapels. “Half-pirates?” Dessa offered. Gary Blue pointed at him, giving him a sober nod. Of course. Half-pirates. They were half-pirates. This seemed to cheer up the group considerably. Big Ugly wasn’t so sure. Were they even pirates in the first place? He sighed. “What’s a half-pirate?” “We do half of pirating,” said Gary Blue. “We set sail, but not on the high seas, do we? We buckle, but we don’t swash, do we? We plunder, but where do we plunder from? Not other ships. We plunder from landlubbers. That’s not piracy. That’s raiding. And what business do we even have raiding this little city? What’s in it for us?” Big Ugly nodded. It was a sound point. Gary made a very persuasive point. He had everyone swaddled up in his attention. In a burst of very un-Blue movement, Gary Blue lifted his fist, bringing it down on the table. “I say we become whole pirates! Sail the high seas! Swash AND buckle! And we’ll make our fortune by taking on any ship under the sun! Even…” He pointed off in some direction, letting people figure it out while he let the finger hang in the air. Big Ugly’s heart leapt up into his throat. He had to be off this ship. Now. “Even,” said Gary Blue, letting the silence in the air lead up the the next word like a reverse echo: “Ogleson!” The men cheered and roared, mixing their voices in incoherent joy and rage. In the commotion that followed, nearly noone noticed Big Ugly had slipped off the ship, disappearing into the forest. The mutiny was therefore very short and a little disappointing, and the ships of Gary Blue sailed Northeast for Mardadus Pass. rogue pixie navy disappears into the Deep. }} Category:History of Al'jann